


The Hajime Who Loves the Ocean

by bisquittes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Beaches, CLOSE FAMILY TIES, Half-Filipino Iwaizumi Hajime, Half-Filipino!Iwaizumi Hajime, M/M, OIKAWA BEING CLOSE WITH IWA'S PARENTS, Ocean, Three years, University Life, college kids, iwaoi - Freeform, kids trying to be mature and independent of each other, philippines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6641125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisquittes/pseuds/bisquittes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years into university and Iwaizumi asks Oikawa to spend spring break with his family in the Philippines. Oikawa finally sees the beach Iwaizumi grew up in and loved so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hajime Who Loves the Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> Footnotes found at the end.

                “Oooh! Since you love the sea so much, listen to this, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa leaned a little on the shoulder beside him and read from his phone, “the name you think of when you stand in front of the ocean.” Oikawa sighed dramatically. “Isn’t that just romantic?”

                “Yeah, sure it is,” Iwaizumi replied without looking at him. He found the earphones he was fishing around in his bag for, plugged it into his phone, popped them into his ears and sat back comfortably in his seat.

                Oikawa placed a hand to his chest and turned away with closed eyes, “how could you ignore me so easily, Iwa-chan? I thought you loved me?” He peeked at Iwaizumi from the corner of his eye and having no response, rolled his eyes and gave up.

                “You were the one who never really answered my messages, _gago_ 1,” came the mumbled reply. Oikawa almost looked apologetic for a second when he heard the all too familiar foreign word. He was about to spew a hopefully scathing remark when Iwaizumi continued, “get some sleep. The flight lasts for about 5 hours and we’re heading straight to the province once this plane lands.”

                Oikawa pulled his lips into an unamused line and conceded. “Fine.”

                And he watched the clouds from his window seat, sparing a few sidelong glances at Iwaizumi who slept beside him.

–––

                Half a year into separate universities and it felt like the only thing that changed was that Iwaizumi didn’t see much of Oikawa during the weekdays. He heard from him often, bombarding him with mails of good morning’s and take care’s and good night’s and photos of his breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks, and evening calls to talk about their day and Iwaizumi reminding him not to overwork himself. They met up often on weekends after their teams’ training sessions, and had even gone to each other’s apartments a few times. Once a month, because of their mothers’ firm insistence, they would go home and spend time in each other’s houses either taking naps or eating—Oikawa always loved the _turon_ 2 and the _biko_ 6 that Iwaizumi’s mother makes.

                Things were going great.

                For half a year.

                After that, the mails came in twice or thrice a day, to once or twice a week, until there were weeks when none came at all. The calls stopped coming, too.

                Maybe because it happened gradually, in a span of some months, that it didn’t bother Iwaizumi too much. He’s probably busy with school and practice and hey, maybe he even found himself a girlfriend, he thought, but even so, he was sure to remember to mail him about not overworking himself, complete with feigned anger, to which Oikawa would reply, _yes, mom_ , along with a few dozen emoji.

                Save for a few times during the intercollegiate preliminaries and semi-finals, they rarely got to see each other. The weekend lunch dates and trips together back to Miyagi soon became a thing of the past. Even during their school breaks, they barely caught glimpses of each other. The Oikawas would go to their ancestral home or elsewhere for vacation, while the Iwaizumis would either stay home or go back to the Philippines.

                Things stayed like that for more than three years.

                It wouldn’t be fair to say that neither of them put any effort into meeting up, but rarely did they ever find compatible schedules. It was either exams or papers or practice or presentations that kept them from seeing each other.

                “Maybe the universe doesn’t want us to meet, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa laughed over the phone. It was a Friday night and they had agreed to go out to lunch the following day. They were sophomores and it was the fourth time that year Oikawa had to cancel.

                “ _Gago_ 1, the hell are you talking about now? You’re just too busy. And so am I.” Iwaizumi had his phone propped against his shoulder as he skimmed through PDFs and PDFs of readings, obscuring the internet tab of an article of a college volleyball star setter he knew very well.

                A long sigh on the phone.

                “What?”

                The line was quiet for a while. “We’ll have all the time we’ll ever want after graduation, won’t we?”

                Iwaizumi knew Oikawa was a strong bet for the commercial teams in the country, if not the national team itself. He knew how busy it would be the moment they step out of university. He knew it would be even more difficult for Oikawa to find spare time for petty things like seeing him when that happens.

                Oikawa’s voice came out small and quiet, “we will, won’t we, Iwa-chan?”

                “Yeah, of course.”

                It was silent for a minute, except for the even breathing shared over the phone.

                “Hey, Iwa-chan—”

                “Oikawa—”

                They both stopped.

                “You go first,” said Iwaizumi.

                “No, you.”

                A sigh. “Just don’t overwork yourself, _puta_ 3. Remember to fucking take care of yourself, for god’s sake, okay?”

                A soft laugh. Iwaizumi has used the word far too many times for him not to recognize the harsh tone with a warm fondness. “I won’t, I won’t. Thanks, mom.”

                “ _Gago_ 1—!”

                “Good night, Iwa-chan, see you soon!”

                It wasn’t even June, but that was the last phone call they had that year.

                Iwaizumi never got around asking what Oikawa wanted to say.

                _Soon,_ on the other hand, came in a year later, three weeks before spring break. It was a month after the season and Oikawa had just posted on his Twitter, Instagram and Facebook accounts about spraining an ankle two days ago. He had unfortunately forgotten to hide the post from a certain someone who was bound to pelt him with his rage and curses and insults.

                “Open the fucking door, _punyeta_ 4!” Iwaizumi was slamming his fist on the door with enough force to break off someone’s finger. “If you don’t open this damn door in three seconds, you stupid _puta_ 3, I will fucking—”

                Before he finished his threat, the door opened and out came a tall girl with tied up hair, a knapsack slung over her shoulder and a tired look in her eyes. She looked at Iwaizumi and said nothing. Following suit was a man, as tall as he was, Iwaizumi thought, who bowed his head at the sight of him.

                “ _Ossu_ , you must be Iwa-chan,” he said, a bright grin on his face. At the confused look on Iwaizumi’s face, he laughed and said, “I’m Yamamura, Oikawa-kun’s teammate. She’s my sister, Yuri,” he pointed to the girl looking impatiently at him, “she manages the team.”

                “Yamma, Yuri-chan, come back for me tomorrow, okay?” Oikawa yelled from somewhere inside the apartment.

                “Maybe,” Yamamura answered back. He then returned to Iwaizumi. “We’ve hear a lot about you. Please take care of lecturing him for us, okay?”

                Iwaizumi couldn’t help but empathize. He managed a smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll do my best.”

                It was quiet when he stepped inside. It was pretty big for a student’s apartment, but then again he remembered that on top of having been scouted by a university, Oikawa was also given a scholarship that covered his housing. In the living room, he found a _kotatsu_ surrounded by mounds and mounds of pillows and the familiar back of a certain reckless _puta_ 3 against the glare of the television.

                Iwaizumi didn’t bother announcing his arrival. He just up and went straight for the _kotatsu_ , shedding his backpack in the process and dropping a paper bag of food on the table before tucking himself under the sheets. The television showed an old documentary about unidentified flying objects that were seen by locals some years ago.

                “You never planned to tell me.”

                “Do you think those UFO’s are aliens?”

                Iwaizumi faced him so quickly his neck made a snapping sound. “ _Makinig ka sa’kin, punyeta_ 5!”

                Still facing the television, Oikawa smiled. That sentence, too, he knew by heart. 

                “I missed your voice, Iwa-chan.”

                “Fuck you,” he said, barely audible over the polytonal music from the television, “you could have called, _gago_ 1.” He looked to the _kotatsu_ where Oikawa’s foot was probably buried under. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this?”

                “Because you’ll get mad.”

                “The fuck? I’ll get—?” He let out a low growl, biting his lower lip and clenching his fists on the table, trying to stomp out the rage. “First you stop talking to me, for fuck’s sake, Oikawa, I could count on a single hand the number of times you ever took my fucking call, _punyeta_ 5! And, what? The next thing I hear is that you injured yourself. Again! The fuck do I keep telling you? Expect that the one thing I keep telling you is the one thing you won’t fucking do.”

                Oikawa kept quiet and kept his eyes on the screen. He looked tired, his shoulders looked really stiff and his skin was a shade paler than usual.

                Iwaizumi let out a long sigh, carrying with it his frustration and exhaustion. “You’re lucky it didn’t happen during the season, you dumb fuck.”

                He straightened himself up, left the _kotatsu_ and made his way to the sink where he set water to boil. He returned to the table to collect the paper bag he brought with him to start putting out the food. From the corner of his eye, he could see Oikawa watching him the whole while, which he ignored dutifully. The pot whistled a tune and he brewed them both tea.

                “You’re lucky it’s a Friday. Practice on my end starts in the afternoon tomorrow,” he said as he set the food and forks and chopsticks on the table. He brought them _donburi_ and miso soup he bought at the place Oikawa had taken him one time when he was visiting. “Eat up.”

                “I’m very lucky.” He smiled at the food. “Did you make the _turon_ 2 and the _biko_ 6, Iwa-chan?”

                Not sparing a glance at the other, Iwaizumi said, “ _gago_ 1. Who else do you think’s gonna make them?”

                Oikawa chuckled weakly and ate. There were no words between them, just the sound of over-enthusiastic commercials and the occasional clink of utensils.

                Oikawa finished his portions and set his food down. “We almost won nationals.”

                “Yeah, I know.”

                “I was so frustrated.”

                “I can imagine.”

                “I was so frustrated, Iwa-chan! If I hadn’t just—”

                Iwaizumi held a hand up to his face to silence him. “I’ll have to stop you right there.”

                Oikawa knit his brows at him, indignant.

                “You played really well and you did nothing wrong. I watched the game. I was there. You were perfect.” Iwaizumi ignored the brush of light red that suddenly colored Oikawa’s ears and neck and instead, finished what was left of his miso soup. “That,” he pointed under the _kotatsu_ , referring to Oikawa’s sprain, “was the only mistake you made. It’s been a month after nationals, you dumb _puta_ 3. I would have expected you to get over it by now.”

                Oikawa bunched up his lips to one side. “ _You’re_ a dumb _puta_ 3,” he mumbled.

                Iwaizumi threw him a look. “How bad did the doctor say it was?”

                “Grade two.”

                “How long is it out?”

                “Four to five weeks, maybe.”

                “Did they prescribe you the same pain meds as before?”

                “Along with other things, yeah.”

                “Good.”

                Oikawa looked at him with a brow raised while Iwaizumi fished around the front pocket of his pull over for a small paper bag where the familiar sound of foil crunched when he tossed it over to him.

                “I got you meds and Pocari. It’s in the fridge.”

                “Thanks, mom.”

                Iwaizumi shot him another look. “ _Gago_ 1.”

                Oikawa smiled at him, teeth and all. No shred of the pretentious crowd-swooning smiles he handed out in abundance. How long has it been since Iwaizumi last saw that toothy grin in person and not from the glare in his phone?

                “It’s funny that we rarely ever got to meet up and the one time it happens was the one time I sprain my ankle and you come running to comfort me.” He let out a breath theatrically as he propped his cheek against his hand.

                Iwaizumi just rolled his eyes and began stabbing at the _biko_ 6 he made.

                Oikawa made another face when Iwaizumi refused to rise to his bait.

                “It’s your fault for not listening to me. The one thing— _one_ thing—that I keep telling you—”

                “—is the one thing I didn’t do. Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time.”

                And Oikawa leaned back against his arms, savoring the feeling of the satiation from good food and terribly missed company. When Iwaizumi cleared the table and began working the sink, he called out to him, “you could leave those there. I’ll wash them in the morning.”

                “It’s fine. You probably have a shit time getting around, anyway.”

                Oikawa made a show of gasping loudly with a hand over his mouth, “Iwa-chan’s being considerate of Oikawa-san? Will you stay the night with Oikawa-san as well?”

                Iwaizumi just looked over his shoulder.

                Oikawa dropped all traces of sickly sweetness in his voice and turned the television volume up, the weather person going on about how the temperature will drop severely as the snow piles up all evening and into the night. “It’s gonna snow real hard tonight, Iwa-chan. You either freeze your butt off trying to get home or you could stay nice and warm with dear little Oikawa-san. What’ll it be?”

                “Fine. I’m staying.”

                And he did.

                They’d slept next to each other under the _kotatsu_ , Oikawa insisting it was warmer and saying how it would be nice to have a sleepover like old times. Of course, Iwaizumi had to be the one to fetch the spare futon and all comforters from Oikawa’s bed so they could sleep comfortably among the piles and piles of pillows.

                Not that Iwaizumi minded. It _had_ been a while since they had a sleep over. Except, they didn’t talk like the way they usually did during sleep overs, way past bedtime and well into the night. What little conversation they had, comprised mostly of trivial questions and hummed responses, Oikawa peppered with the occasional “I’ve missed you,” until his meds pulled him into sleep with a grin on his face and a good night halfway past his lips, and Iwaizumi finally told him that he had missed him, too.

                Iwaizumi felt it. The strained atmosphere, the hesitation and reservation he hated when Oikawa refused to talk about the things that mattered. The careful avoidance and the deliberate way they tiptoed around each other. He hated it.

                He turned to his side and watched the steady rise and fall of Oikawa’s chest beside him. He thought about what Oikawa has been up to for three or so years aside from what he read about him in sports articles, about how many more times he would be able to see him, to hear him, to have him within an arm’s length, before Oikawa was completely out of his reach. He extinguished the growing urgency at the back of his mind and shook his head.

                He’ll have to leave in the morning.

                He just wished they could stay like that longer.

                _Gagong puta_ 7, he thought as he himself drifted off to sleep.

                Morning came just a little warmer, thanks to what sunlight filtered through the clouds.

                Iwaizumi looked to his side and found that yes, Oikawa was still there, still sleeping beside him with his arms and legs wound comfortably around pillows. Iwaizumi’s lips managed to curve into a smile as he stretched away whatever sleepiness was left in his bones. He then proceeded to make breakfast. If anything, he was glad that Oikawa never lets his fridge come empty.

                “Hmmm, it smells good…” Oikawa muttered in a voice thick with sleep as he rolled around in the pillows. “Iwa-chan’s making me breakfast,” he giggled, dragging out his words, “how nice, it must be a dream.”

                Iwaizumi ignored him as he placed sunny side ups and toast and a couple of steaming mugs of coffee on the table. “Your milk’s gotten rotten, dumbass. If you plan on buying something, at least finish the damn thing. It’s never a good thing to be wasteful.”

                “Yes, yes, I’ll remember that,” he answered as he pulled himself from under the _kotatsu_ and sat up to the food. He flipped on the television for the morning news. “It’s gonna be a sunny day today, Iwa-chan! You could mosey on home in the morning so you could be on time for your afternoon practice!”

                “Yeah, maybe,” he answered absently. He sat beside Oikawa and he tried not to notice how the latter’s shoulders had tensed. “You know, even before I knew about your sprained ankle, I was supposed to come here and talk to you about something.”

                Oikawa hummed in that singsong tone of his and sipped at his coffee. “You’re finally going to propose to me, Iwa-chan?”

                Iwaizumi threw him a dirty look and spat, “ _gago_ 1.” He took a sip of his own coffee and continued, “so my family and I plan to go home to the Philippines for spring break and—”

                “We’re getting married… _In the Philippines_? Oh, Iwa-chan, that’s so roman—”

                There was the sharp sound of Iwaizumi flicking Oikawa’s forehead and a string of muttered curses under the latter’s breath.

                “Anyway, I went home a couple of weeks ago and I got into a conversation with my mom while your mom was at our place and bottom line was that mom asked if you wanted to come with us. Well, your mom was fine with it and—”

                “Wait, mom was fine with it? _My_ mom? I’ve been asking her to let me go with you for _years_ and she only agrees _now_?”

                Iwaizumi shrugged. “She said you’ve gone and lived alone here in Tokyo, and she said she’s seen that you’re mature enough that she won’t worry about you causing trouble and stuff.”

                Oikawa looked at his coffee mug as if it had severely offended him. “Mom… I thought you loved me,” he said in disbelief.

                “So anyway I talked to mom on the phone a couple days ago and she asked about whether or not you wanted to go so we could book flights.”

                “Do I want to? Do _I_ want to? Of _course_ I want to, Iwa-chan!” He almost screamed, slamming a hand to the table. “You’ve been telling me stories of that house of yours near the ocean, now I can finally get to see it! Why wouldn’t I want to go? My ankle’s out for some weeks, practice wouldn’t be a problem!”

                “Yeah, about that… I’m still worried about your ankle.”

                “When are we leaving? Spring break’s in three weeks it’ll heal enough!”

                “Well… Home’s quiet enough, I guess. Okay.”

                And it did heal enough.

                But it turned out that their booked flight was off by a couple days because Iwaizumi had to extend his stay because the professor arrived a day late from a conference overseas and Oikawa had to attend a required symposium in the university, lest he wanted to an academically occupied summer break.

                “No problem,” Hajime’s mother told him over the phone, “I’ll just rebook your flights. Your father and I will go ahead. You’re a big boy now, _anak_ 8. You know how it goes. And you’ll even have Tooru with you!”

                “Okay. Thanks, ma.”

–––  
…  
–––

                Iwaizumi was thankful that their flight was not delayed and that they arrived ahead of schedule.

                “We’re finally here!” Oikawa nearly squeaked in excitement. “We’re finally, _finally_ here!”

                “That we are,” Iwaizumi said nonchalantly as he gathered his things.

                Oikawa pouted. “I kind of expected you to be more excited and enthusiastic about this, Iwa-chan, seeing you like that kind of makes me think you’re a cold-hearted person who isn’t too fond of home.”

                “ _Wag ka ngang gago_ 1,9, of course I love home. It’s just that we still have to take another flight before we reach home.”

                “But at least we’re nearer, though!”

                “Yeah,” Iwaizumi flashed him a smile. Warm. The kind where you know happiness and suppressed excitement is just bubbling underneath the surface. “I guess we are.”

                Oikawa managed to drop his bag twice after that.

                A couple of hours’ worth of plane ride later, they were walking out the airport with their luggage in tow, heading toward at least four people who came to pick them up.

                “Hajime, Tooru! I’m so glad you two got here safe and sound!” Iwaizumi’s mother was all over them, hugging them and kissing their foreheads.

                “ _Tita_ 11 Nelia, you’re looking beautiful as always!”

                “Tooru, _anak_ 8, you’re such a _bolero_ 12!” She laughed.

                Oikawa’s grin widened after hearing her call him _anak_ 8. “I’m telling the truth!”

                “He’s telling the truth!” Iwaizumi’s father chimed in.

                “Don’t encourage him, pa,” Iwaizumi said, smiling and shaking his head. “I’m glad you and dad got here safe, too, ma.” He reached for his parents’ hands to _mano_ 10 to them and Oikawa did the same.

                “Hi, _tito_ 11 Hiro,” he said as Iwaizumi’s father reached to ruffle the top of their heads.

                “I haven’t seen you for such a long time, Tooru-kun! It looks like you’ve gotten even bigger! By the way, I heard you sprained your ankle, how is it? Are you sure it’s okay to be walking around like that?” Hiro asked.

                “Don’t worry, _tito_ 11, it’s doing much better! I can walk but not too much, though. Thanks to your son who has taken such good care of me,” he said.

                “I’m glad to hear that. And about your ankle, home is a really nice place. It’s quiet and relaxing, it’s a good place to heal your sprain,” Hiro said and patted his shoulder. “What about your flight?”

                “It was good! It wasn’t delayed and there were no problems whatsoever! Except that guy,” he pointed to Iwaizumi. “He didn’t want to talk to me because he said I was too _obnoxious_ and _annoying_ ,” Oikawa said, feigning hurt.

                “He’s such a big bully, isn’t he?” Hiro said with a hand covering his mouth.

                “Such a big bully indeed, _tito_ 11!”

                Iwaizumi would never admit it, but he likes it when Oikawa calls his parents _tito_ 11 and _tita_ 11. His dad had always pestered him to tell his friends to call him that because he liked the sound of it and that it feels more familiar and less distant that way. Iwaizumi would never admit that he agrees with his father with that one. _Of course I want to get involved with my son’s life, too,_ his father would say.

                Iwaizumi introduced Oikawa to his uncle, aunt and cousin who also tagged along to pick them up. The three of them parroted each other, taking turns saying _gwapo_ 13 and _pogi_ 13, both words Oikawa knew because Iwaizumi’s mother and father always used the words on them. He grinned and giggled and another round of _gwapo_ 13’s and _pogi_ 13’s were handed to him.

                The ride home took nearly five hours since their hometown was way beyond the city limits, somewhere just outside the suburbs and just before the rurality of a fishing community. Iwaizumi’s aunt and cousin talked to him animatedly, once or twice jabbing his side with her elbow and asking, “ _ano, kayo ba?_ 14 ” to which he would just laugh and pretend to whine.

                Oikawa, on the other hand, was being briefed by Iwaizumi’s parents about the place. The city, when they passed it, was brimming with color and life and was somehow reminiscent of Sendai. He especially enjoyed seeing the transition from busy city to suburbs to ah yes, he thought, the place definitely feels like home, when they finally stopped outside a two-story house sitting in the middle of a grassy patch of land dotted with fruiting trees.

                It was already late into the afternoon when Iwaizumi and Oikawa had been fed and thrown into the mercy of overeager relatives comprised of aunts pinching cheeks, uncles ruffling hair, and cousins of different sizes asking about how they’ve been, who the tall, handsome boy he was with is, and whether or not they’ve gotten themselves girlfriends.

                “My family’s in love with you,” Iwaizumi said once they’ve been allowed to go back home after being fed a third time after dinner.

                “What can I say? I’m not hard to love,” Oikawa said with feigned confidence and an exaggerated shrug.

                “That’s true,” Iwaizumi answered absently.

                He didn’t notice the way Oikawa stopped for a second, or the way Oikawa’s ears had pinked.

                It was two weeks into February. It wasn’t terribly hot yet and Iwaizumi’s younger cousins still had classes, so aside from the initial contact with Iwaizumi’s family, the afternoons were mostly unoccupied and quiet, spent in a multitude of ways.

                On most days, the two boys helped in the kitchen to make afternoon snacks, sometimes Iwaizumi taught Oikawa how to play the ukulele or the guitar and sang him old Filipino pop songs, and on the first weekend of their stay, the both of them hung out with Iwaizumi’s older cousins, who surprisingly or not, clicked with Oikawa. Nelia and Hiro also told them the story of how they met: Hiro and his friends decided to study in the Philippines because the tuition was cheaper and because the country spoke English, which they took as a good training opportunity and as fate would have it, Nelia was a student in the same university taking up the same degree program at the time.

                They had a hammock out back, strapped between two sturdy mango trees. It was big, Iwaizumi could remember himself and his parents taking afternoon naps in it when he was a kid. Iwaizumi helped Oikawa on the hammock, the latter thoroughly enjoying the lulling rhythm of its swaying, and since that one time he fell asleep while Iwaizumi told stories from his childhood, it became a constant thing in their afternoons.

                A few times Iwaizumi’s mother caught them sleeping snugly in the hammock when she was supposed to call them for afternoon snacks and one time Iwaizumi’s father snickered uncontrollably while he snapped a photos of them for bribing purposes. This time, his mother caught him awake with Oikawa sleeping soundly with his head on his shoulder.

                “ _Ang cute nyo naman, anak_ 8,15,” she chuckled, grabbing hold of one end of the hammock and rocking it gently.

                “Mom, that’s something I already know,” Iwaizumi poked, laughing.

                Nelia smiled. Iwaizumi rarely made such self-serving remarks ever since he went into middle school, but he figured it amused his mother when he did.

                “ _Anak_ 8?” Nelia began. Her tone made Iwaizumi dread what she was about to say next. “Are you two okay?”

                Iwaizumi couldn’t meet her gaze when he replied, “what are you talking about, ma?” He let out a laugh that he hoped didn’t sound too forced. “We’re doing okay.”

                From the corner of his eye, Iwaizumi saw his mother frown. “Are you sure?”

                “ _Opo_ 16, ma. We’re okay, don’t worry.”

                Iwaizumi knew he didn’t make a very convincing liar, especially not to his mother, but he was lucky enough that she didn’t push any further.

                “Hey, wouldn’t Tooru be bored being cooped up at home?”

                “I took him out to town the other day. The girls wouldn’t leave him alone and he wouldn’t shut up about it.”

                “What about the beach, then?” She paused, thoughtful. “Come to think of it, I’m wondering why you haven’t gone to see the ocean yet. You love the ocean.”

                “I did, though. The day Oikawa and I arrived. I couldn’t sleep that night so I went down by the beach. I stayed for a couple hours before I headed back. I slept fine after that.”

                “Oh.” She shrugged. “I’m still surprised you aren’t going there every day, to be honest. You wouldn’t stop talking about it over the phone.”

                “Yeah well…” He took a small glimpse at the person sleeping beside him.

                “Ah. Of course, of course,” his mother said, nodding in comprehension. “I get it. Well, _anak_ 8, if you ever decide you want to eat, food’s in the kitchen.” She said as she began making her way back.

                “Ma, no, it’s not—”

                “You boys take your time, no hurries.” And the door closed shut behind her.

                “Ma…” he said weakly.

–––

                Oikawa liked the house a lot. The windows were huge and the rooms were nice and airy and it felt like you could take a nap anywhere. The spacious living room had sofas and settees and the walls were hung with photos of family, the dining area housed an intricately carved wooden table together with its chairs, while a huge pair of a wooden spoon and fork hung on one part of the wall. Oikawa couldn’t figure out the aesthetic behind the wooden spoon and fork, but he eventually decided it went well with feel of the place.

                His favorite room, though, was Iwaizumi’s room. It was on the second floor, the first door to the right. Like all the rooms, it was decently spacious, the floorboards covered in white vinyl that sometimes creaked when you walked over them, Iwaizumi completely memorized where the creaky spots and the quiet spots were, and the walls hung with photos from when he was a kid. Oikawa’s favorite was one where Iwaizumi was barely two years old, crying in front of a clown. There was also a shell-laden study table across from the bed that was put against the wall, under a huge window that overlooked the ocean.

                He knew Iwaizumi loved the ocean. He couldn’t quite remember all of Iwaizumi’s stories about it, but he could remember how he looked, how happy and excited and nostalgic he sounded when he talked about the ocean. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the Iwa-chan who loved the ocean.

                “The hell are you smiling about,” Iwaizumi said as he entered the room, bringing in a plate of assorted rice cakes.

                “The ocean looks so pretty,” Oikawa said as he picked up a rice cake that had three differently colored layers. “No wonder you love it so much.”

                “We could go there, if you want.”

                Oikawa beamed at him. “Really? Today?”

                “Actually, I’ve wanted to go there with you for a while now but I was still a little worried about your foot. It only looks near, but it’s a bit of a walk from home.”

                “I can take a pain med after we eat and I’ll be fine!”

                Iwaizumi still wasn’t convinced. “You know, if anything happened to you, your mom and your sister will kill me.”

                Oikawa rolled his eyes, “no they won’t. They adore you too much for that. And anyway, I’ll just tell them I coerced you into taking me. They’ll believe it.”

                And so they went.

                The tide was low that day and Iwaizumi decided to take a walk straight into the ocean while Oikawa sat by the shore, picking at shells. Iwaizumi was probably about half a gymnasium away when he sat, submerged up to his waist, and stayed like that for a while, picking at things in the water.

                “I wish I could go into the water, too,” Oikawa sighed, laying his hand on the sand where the waves could lap at his fingers. The water was cool against his sun-warmed skin. “This sucks.”

                He never hated the bandages around his ankle as much as he did at that moment. He wanted to run after Iwaizumi and sit in the water beside him. He wanted to splash around and pull Iwaizumi into the water even though he was sure he would get cursed at in at least two languages, it was okay, though, because Oikawa knew they would laugh all the same.

                He looked up when he noticed Iwaizumi stand up from the water and start to head back. Oikawa couldn’t help the grin creeping up his face as he waved. Iwaizumi waved back.

                Soaked to the bone, Iwaizumi sat beside him and handed him something from his hand. Oikawa held out his palm and there came the shiniest shells he has ever laid eyes on.

                “Wow, Iwa-chan, are these for me? They’re so pretty!”

                “Figured you’d like them.”

                “I do! I really do! I’m just a little surprised that you had half a brain to be able to tell that they’re pretty!”

                The sharp sound of a finger flicking a forehead and the usual string of curses.

                Three years.

                More than three years the both of them hadn’t properly spoken to each other. Oikawa could tell, that even though they were acting like those three years didn’t exist now, there was a myriad of things that hovered unspoken between them. But now that he was rubbing at his aching forehead, he could almost feel like a kid again, allowed by his mother to go to the tropical paradise that was Iwaizumi’s home for the final summer of his high school life.

                At least, he liked to think of it that way.

                Oikawa wanted to stay like that for as long as they could. Thousands of miles away from Japan, on a beach drenched in the late afternoon sun. None of the responsibilities of university life, none of the impending threat that was adulthood, and most certainly none of the complicated feelings he had been trying to subdue for the past three years.

                Until Iwaizumi’s voice came, disarmingly uncharacteristic and strangely hushed.

                “Were you avoiding me?”

                The question caught Oikawa off guard. It felt like he was waiting for the inevitable fall after miscalculating the last step at the top of a flight of stairs.

                Except no, he wasn’t falling. He was on a beach, sitting down with his palm on the sand, beside Iwaizumi who was looking at everything but him.

                It took him less than a second to slip on a façade to mask his sudden surprise. He knew Iwaizumi wasn’t dumb. He knew this conversation was about to come up sooner or later. He just wished the question came later rather than sooner.

                “Wait, you know what, never mind. That was a stupid question, you were probably just busy with—”

                 “I was.”

                Iwaizumi’s brows knit. “You were?”

                Oikawa looked straight into the ocean, following the flight of a bird zooming directly above the water. “Since we’re here on this pretty beach you love so much, and since you so insisted on bringing it up, we might as well talk about it, right? Yes, Iwa-chan, I was avoiding you,” Oikawa said sharply.

                Iwaizumi opened his mouth to speak, but Oikawa sighed and continued, this time softer, “okay, look, I guess I just missed you too much. The more I talked to you, Iwa-chan, the more I missed you, the more I wanted to see you. I realized that and decided that it had to stop— _I_ had to stop. It was hard at first, it really was, but… I guess it’s just a part of growing up. I knew I couldn’t always be dependent on you.” He took a pebble from under his toes and threw it in the water. “I guess it was just my way of learning how to be apart from you.”

                Iwaizumi had loosely pulled up his knees, his elbows on top of them. He said nothing, blankly watching the water seep into the sand when the waves came.

                “Most of the times I had to cancel was just me running away, really,” Oikawa laughed bitterly. “I was afraid of what I might do when I see you. I was afraid my inhibitions would crumble to nothing and I’d say things I’m not supposed to.” He put an elbow on his knee and propped his forehead against his palm. “Stupid, huh?”

                “What things?” was the only this Iwaizumi managed.

                “I have inhibitions, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa scoffed, “I’m not telling.”

                Oikawa didn’t know how long they sat in silence, or since when the beach had emptied except for the both of them, or how their hands found their way that the backs of their palms are touching and one index finger was hooked snugly around the other’s ring finger.

                “Tooru.”

                Oikawa glanced at him. “Huh?”

                “The name you think of when you stand in front of the ocean,” Iwaizumi said, his eyes trained on the shrinking sandbar in the distance. “It’s Tooru. I don’t know why, but it’s always been Tooru.”

                Oikawa felt like his insides had melted into goop, drooping to the pit of his abdomen, turning into an uncomfortable but securing kind of warmth that had begun to seep into every inch of him, making the bridge of his nose hot, his cheeks hot, his ears and the back of his neck hot. The universe had dragged this on far too long, he thought, just so at the end, he could hear the sweet sound of Iwaizumi—

                “Which Tooru are you talking about?”

                Iwaizumi glared at him. “You’re the only Tooru there is to me, you fucking _pu_ —”

                “Mine is Hajime.”

                Oikawa could feel the sting in his eyes now, and it wasn’t because of the salt in the air. “The moment we set foot in the sand, and all the while I watched you march straight into the sea. The only thing on my mind was Hajime. Just Hajime. Hajime. Hajime.”

                Iwaizumi bit his lip.

                Maybe it was in the way Oikawa’s shoulders were set so tensely, or how he gripped the bandaging on his ankle, or how his voice wobbled dangerously on the brink of cracking as he said his name like a confession, but Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of relief.

                “I was afraid I’d lose you if I threw everything out in the open, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa took a breath to steady himself. “I was afraid that if I’d told you that I love you and that I’m in love with you and you didn’t feel the same, it would be the end of it, and it would have been my fault. I don’t want to lose you, Iwa-chan, I never want to lose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

                “I was afraid that after university, I’d never get to see you again.”

                Oikawa looked up at him, eyes glossy with tears threatening to spill. “What?”

                “I see it in magazines, and in the news. You have a bright future ahead of you, Oikawa. Big teams want you, hell, even the national team wants you.”

                “Iwa-chan, I don’t think—”

                “If you were afraid that you’d lose me when you tell me that you love me and that you’re in love with me because I wouldn’t feel the same, then scratch that. I hate to sound so self-assured, but I knew you were in love with me even before we left for college. I knew it since graduation, when you called me out to give me the goddamned button from your fucking blazer when all the girls hunted you down for it.” Iwaizumi shook his head and smiled. “If you’re afraid I wouldn’t feel the same, then you can rest assured that I do.”

                Oikawa continued to stare at him, still as a statue, save for the steady flow of tears from his eyes.

                “Don’t make that face, you look even stupider than usual,” he chuckled. “I thought people should be happy when they find out the person they love loves them back?”

                Trembling hands reached to cup Iwaizumi’s face. “Is it okay to kiss you now?”

                Iwaizumi laughed and nodded once. “By all means.”

                “Finally,” Oikawa breathed as he smiled and leaned their foreheads together. “I love you and I’m so in love with you, Iwa-chan.”

                Iwaizumi could feel Oikawa’s tears on his own cheeks as he leaned in for another brush of lips. He smiled.

                “I love you and I’m so in love with you. I love you more than I love this ocean.”

                Even with Iwaizumi’s eyes closed, he could feel the smile radiating off Oikawa’s beautiful face.

 

.

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…  
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1 _gago_ (n./adj.) stupid, foolish, insensible

2 _turon_ (n.) a Filipino dish of bananas (adding jackfruit is optional) wrapped in spring roll wrappers fried with caramelized sugar

3 _puta_ (n.) a whore

4 _punyeta_ (int.) damn; a curse word used the same as shit or fuck (I won’t go into origin and how it’s used differently in other Spanish-speaking countries)

5 _Makinig ka sa’kin, punyeta!_ – Listen to me, damn it!

6 _biko_ (n.) a rice cake cooked in sugar

7 _gagong puta_ (n.) a foolish whore

8 _anak_ (n.) child; son or daughter

9 _Wag ka ngang gago_ – Don’t be so stupid.

10 _mano_ (v.) – a sign of respect to the older people, often a generation older in the family where one takes the hand of the older family member and bows to touch their forehead to the back of the older family member’s hand

11 _tita/tito_ (n.) – literally “aunt” and “uncle” respectively; used to express familiarity when calling a friend’s mother or father

12 _bolero/bolera_ (n.) – a person who uses flattery to get their way

13 _gwapo_ , _pogi_ (n./adj.) – a good looking boy

14 _Ano, kayo ba?_ – So, are you together?

15 _Ang cute nyo naman, anak._ – How cute you are, my child.

**Author's Note:**

> i never really planned to write this but i came across an old thread about iwaizumi being half-filipino and i was kind of surprised there was fanficiton of it lmao needless to say i read aLL OF THEM and i kind of just thought about an iwa who loves beaches and who grew up near one and the next thing i knew i was bordering 4k words (when i said it wasn't gonna go beyond 3k hhh) and i guess everything became a train wreck from there minus the excessive hollywood explosions 
> 
> anyway i'll be really happy if u liked the fic even a little bit lmao (･ω･)b


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